The Diary of an Ancient Egyptian Prostitute
by BrightLightsBiggerCity
Summary: A love story exploring the life of a young prostitute (OC) living in Ancient Egypt and her encounters with the heartless Bakura - King of Thieves


**Hey everyone, I realise I should probably finish one story (or two in my case) before starting the next but sometimes my brain works at a million miles an hour and I need to put everything down before it explodes. In other news I have a new laptop so hopefully I can get chapters done more quickly than I have in the past. Anyway, this story is about a young girl working as a prostitute in Ancient Egypt. It tells her story including how she came to fall in love with the heartless Bakura – King of Thieves. Please note: Bakura doesn't make an appearance in this chapter but I promise he will in the next. I hope you are all well, please let me know what you think by hitting review. ^_^**

**Diary of an Ancient Egyptian Prostitute**

**Chapter One**

How do prostitutes please men? What sexual skills and techniques do prostitutes use in order to get men to stray to them in the night? I have heard these questions come up numerous times in conversation among the women in Egypt so I thought I better set the record straight.

The idea that prostitutes are skilled at sex is heavily misleading. To be honest, opening one's legs and bending over doesn't take a lot of skill. Surely over time as we learn more about men's desires our confidence increases but there is not necessarily any specific sexual technique passed down from one experienced prostitute to the next. When I first started this job, I was fifteen and I had no idea what I was doing. I had little knowledge and no experience when it came to pleasing men. All I wanted was for people to like me, I had always been a shy, quiet girl and I knew that would not get me far. So, with help, I created a persona so desirable that over time, men came to me without me having to seduce them. They were immensely aroused by looking at me, it was not only my beauty but also my personality that lit them up. Eventually, they wanted to please me rather than for me to please them.

What exactly do men find alluring about seeing prostitutes? Is it the fact that there is no social pressures, no obligations or expectations? Is it that they feel more at ease in our arms? I think it may satisfy them because we are sexually confident, more open minded and curious. Or it could just be that they find us simply more attractive than their wives.

During my adolescent years I worked in a brothel run by an elderly lady. She told us girls to call her mother, which we did but behind her back we called her Seshafi; meaning angry lady. My real mother passed away during childbirth and my father was a heavy drinker. When he drank he gambled and not very well I might add. One evening he lost everything. He had no more money to service his debt and so he put my life on the line to bet one last hand. After that fateful mistake I was sent away never to see him again. Many years later I eventually found out, not surprisingly, that he drank himself to death. The man who won me really had no use for a young girl but that didn't stop him from taking what he could from me before selling me on. He was my first sexual experience, I forever blamed him for my inability to welcome pleasure.

The day I arrived at the brothel Seshafi greeted me with a wide, gap-toothed smile. Something in that smile told me not to trust her. She was a very old lady, rather wrinkly and walked with a limp. Her husband had passed away in a war many years ago and she was left with his bar. After working tiredly to support herself and her two daughters she soon discovered a need in the market for beautiful women. Not one to sell her own daughters she sought after young girls who were becoming of the age where they needed to support their own families. Seshafi had a way of getting what she wanted and eventually she created every man's fantasy house.

Not every girl that ends up at Seshafi's door is allowed to start work as a prostitute. Despite rumour, a prostitute, or at least one working for Seshafi, must be exquisitely presented. She must be well spoken, polite and of course, beautiful. Seshafi had developed a reputation for recruiting the most desirable women across Egypt to work for her. She would not tolerate the average. She wanted men to be able to visit with not the only intention of bedding a woman but to enjoy the experience she created. She had women who were trained to entertain the men, through dancing and conversation. Women who served drinks and flirted with the men to make them feel important. And lastly there were the girls like me, who for a decent price would take them to a room and satisfy their ultimate need.

When I arrived, I did not start out as a prostitute. To be honest, Seshafi was not sure what to do with me. Although beautiful she told me there was something about me that was sure to turn any man away and at the time I was happy to hear that. I had no intention of wanting to work there as a prostitute, my skin crawled thinking back to the man who took me from my father. The man who touched me in places I wished to forget, who ignored my terrified cries as I begged him to stop. If that was the life a prostitute lived, then forget it, count me out! So instead, she got me working behind the scenes. To start, I worked as a servant. Cleaning, tidying and running errands for her spoilt daughters Mesi and Mert. They didn't like me, I don't know what I ever did to displease them but they insisted on making my life difficult. My name is Urbi, but instead they called me 'little dung beetle'. They would knock over my bucket as I mopped the floors, earning me scowls from Seshafi for being so clumsy. They made sure I was last to eat, spat on me and ruined my dresses by wiping their hands on them rather of washing them with water.

"Oh little dung beetle," Mesi would say. "When is mother going to get rid of you?"

"Any day now" Mert would advise. "I heard her speaking to that nobleman the other day, he needs someone to shovel horse manure out of his stable."

And with that they would break out in devilish laughter at my expense. I thought my life would forever be hell until the day I met Femi. What can I possible say about Femi? Other than she saved me. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever come across before. She had long brown hair which cascaded down her back and striking blue eyes. She strolled as if she walked on air, so light and graceful. I loved how her smile lit up even the darkest of nights. She was Seshafi's pride and joy, the woman who made her fortune. She saw me one day as I ran through the hallway crying. She stopped me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I couldn't possibly bother her with my problems. She pulled out a silk cloth from her pocket and proceeded to wipe my eyes.

"You have such beautiful eyes, you shouldn't cover them with tears." She whispered to me like an angel.

At the time I didn't think much of our meeting. She left me with her cloth, saying she had many more where that came from, and continued on her way. A few days later I was surprised to be summoned to Seshafi's room. Upon entering I saw she had company; Femi was there. I asked if I should come back but was told by 'mother' to sit down and listen. She proceeded to tell me Femi wished for me to be her assistant. She scrunched up her nose as she talked as if she didn't understand why. Femi was the most highly regarded escort in all of Egypt and she continued to tell me she wanted me to work for her personally, running her errands, managing her appointments, assisting with her dressing and make-up. I leaped at the chance, a decision I would never regret.

Day after day I lived Femi's life alongside her. She was adored by everyone, women and men alike. I learned so much from her. She was quiet and introverted like myself but when she was around others she bubbled with life. I eventually realised she saw much of herself in me and that was the reason she wanted to show me what she learned in her twenty years of life. She had invented herself from scratch, discarded the young girl she used to be and instead she now mirrored a person every woman wanted to be. She smiled and laughed often and told the funniest jokes. She presented herself in a way that made men drop to their knees. Oh how I desired to be her. I wanted her life so badly that somehow the thought of sleeping with men became less grotesque if it made me as happy as she.

One day I got to my knees and I pleaded with Seshafi to let me entertain men. I told her I wished to do nothing more in life than this. I had learnt so much from Femi that I was sure to succeed. Seshafi had seen a change in me, and not just in my appearance but my attitude in general. She seemed as pleased as if she were the one who had initiated the change in me. From then I was told I was no longer lost, little, Urbi, my name would be Layla and I would become a mistress of the night.

**Thanks for reading Chapter 1 – please review!**


End file.
